


Revenant

by Arathorn



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Dimension - Modern Alternate World, Alternate Dimension - Vampires, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anti-Villain, Enemy Mine - Freeform, Family of Choice, Foe Yay, Gen, Hunted Vampires, Inter-dimensional travel, LGBTQ Character(s) of Color, Modern Girl in Middle Earth, Multi, Original Character(s), POV Alternating, POV Multiple, POV Original Character(s), POV Tauriel, Rotating POVs, Slow Burn, Tauriel in Vampire Country, Third Age, Villains to Heroes, War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-19 01:27:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7338985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arathorn/pseuds/Arathorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the Battle of Five Armies, and mourning Kíli's death, Tauriel took her banishment to heart. She traveled Arda in search of a place to call home, and found it in another world.</p><p>She never expected to return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tauriel I

**Author's Note:**

> This is a blend of both bookverse and movieverse canon. I will try to stay as faithful to the source material as possible.
> 
> Please tell me what you liked, what you think worked or didn't work, where you lost interest, if the pacing was too slow, or if you want to see more of something, what you think will happen next, etc.
> 
> It would really help for me to know what needs work, so I can become a better writer.
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)

Tauriel sat under a tree in Far Harad, pouring sand out of her shoes after she slipped in a pile of black silt on a river bank. It would be a while before she had to repair the worn leather soles again. She inspected them regardless, and wiped them clean with a spare bit of cloth. 

She put her shoes back on, bracing her feet against a moss-covered tree root for support. She knew she should wear the extra pair of shoes she had tucked in the bottom of her pack, instead. Common sense and experience made her wait. It wouldn't do her any good to have both sets in disrepair, with limited supplies. She had just returned from a trip with a merchant caravan a few days ago. She wasn't interested in going to the nearest outpost to trade so soon. 

The auburn-haired Wood-elf reclined upon the driest patch of ground. It wasn't the most comfortable spot, but it would do. The midday sunlight filtered through the waxy leaves, warm and golden. She covered her eyes with her right arm, breathing in the scent of a storm building in the sky. 

Tauriel listened to the wind rush over the canopy, mixed with the familiar sounds of the jungle. She almost drifted to sleep, until the comforting low-level noise disappeared. She felt pressure in her ears as it faded to a dull roar, then nothing at all. There was no reason for her hearing to go amiss. She hadn't traveled to another climate or region in two days, and readjusted to Harad upon her return.

She looked around, touching her ears with one hand. She couldn't feel anything wrong, but the absence of sound progressed to a gradual loss of vision. The distinct hues of the jungle seemed to recede like the Belegaer's tide. The flowers - some of which gave off the stench of rotting meat - were less vivid, and more blurry and dark. The humid air that usually left her clothes and skin damp, was rather cool.

Tauriel sat up, her skin prickling and the hair on her arms standing on end. A shiver ran down her spine, a jolt of unease so strong she felt sick. She stared into the deep undergrowth that surrounded the trees, and lined the bank of the north river. Tauriel turned to sit against the tree trunk. She felt more secure with the smooth bark at her back, although she couldn't shake the anxiety.

She held onto the curved, gnarled root by her left hip with one hand, and grazed the hilt of her dagger with the other. It was a feeble attempt at grounding herself in the moment, while she waited. She didn't know what happened to distort her senses, whether it was all in her mind, or some kind of warning. Sometimes the air changed with the onset of a storm, and she told herself that was it. The weather wasn't anything to worry about, unless the river flooded and she had to leave the area. But the sensation didn't ease, despite her thoughts.

Thunder boomed overhead, just as the rain began to fall. Tauriel let out a quiet groan as rapid flashes of lighting caused her to shut her eyes. The afterimage burned into her eyelids, rain dripping from the leaves, down the back of her neck. She shivered, then reached to pull up the hood of her sandy brown cloak. It offered more protection from the sun and sand, than the sudden deluge. She drew her legs to her chest, and wrapped her arms around her shins. 

 

**⚔ ⚔ ⚔**

 

Tauriel settled for bowing her head between her knees to quell the nausea that churned in her stomach. She started counting the minutes between each lightning strike to pass the time. A headache enveloped her senses in response to the stimuli from the sporadic change of light and dark. She didn't move, in case her symptoms worsened and she blacked out.

The pulsating rhythm spread from a point behind her eyes, down her cheeks, around her ears to the back of her head. She pressed her knees against her temples, in the hopes of relieving some of the tension. She hissed at the sharp burst of pain that left her reeling and disoriented. If she had some willow bark, she would chew on it, but she hadn't replenished her supply in weeks.

There was no one else around to help her, now, so she sat still and waited out the storm. She didn't expect anyone to stay by her side for long. Not after her restlessness drove her further away from Eryn Lasgalen. The jungle sometimes proved more perilous than her birthplace. Seventeen years wandering Arda, had taught her to caution restraint, where she had none. If this was just a temporary pain, she could get over it, and if this was a warning, she would heed it. She had nowhere to go while the rain soaked through her clothes, and chilled her to the bone.

After a while, she felt the pulse in the back of her head slow to a manageable level of tolerance. Tauriel opened her eyes and looked up with a frown, touching her face. She wondered if her headache would return in full force after she applied pressure, or moved. Her surroundings remained indistinct and muffled as she peered into the shadows. Tauriel thought she had slept through the storm until nightfall, at first. 

That didn't explain how or why she wasn't under a tree in Far Harad. She sat in a sea of grass that reminded her of Rohan, except she didn't know where she was, nor how she had gotten there. It was more than a little unsettling to be so displaced, and she looked to the stars for guidance. They should be a map where she had none save her memory, but even the constellations were different. It brought to mind one of the last conversations she had with Kíli.

_"Tauriel."_

_"Lie still."_

_"You cannot be her. She is far away. She is far...far away from me. She walks...in starlight in another world."_

Tauriel scrambled to her feet. She checked her weapons and pack out of reflex, making sure she still had them on her. She suppressed the urge to empty her stomach, and panic. It threatened to send her spiraling into a state of dissociation. She couldn't afford to make a mistake that could cost her her life. As far as she knew, this place was as safe as any, no matter that being out in the open was dangerous. 

 

**⚔ ⚔ ⚔**

 

Tauriel kept to the treeline while she searched for a fresh water source, and memorized the area. She wondered if she had trespassed upon sacred ground in the jungle, and was removed by force. She hadn't encountered whatever or whoever lived there before. She wasn't sure what had changed between then and now. 

The various human tribes in Harad worshiped different deities. They practiced customs she still didn't understand but respected nonetheless. She couldn't remember if they told her about cursed land. Or land that was otherwise imbued with remnants of magic. 

Tauriel considered the fact that she had also forgotten, while she lived among Men. She never took much stock in rumors, or fanciful tales that came from vague truths. The stories changed from person to person, until no one knew how they began. 

It was easier to go through life from one region to another. She drifted in and out of identities and professions until she found one she preferred. She had commanded Elves and Men, served new people, tended crops and tame Mûmakil calves. 

She could find her way out of this. 

As she explored, Tauriel realized the land belonged to a farmstead, with a barn near a small house. The field and sparse trees led to a freshwater stream downhill from a corral with a watering trough. A  waist-high stone fence enclosed the rest of the property, marking the boundary lines. She jumped over the fence, and walked along the edge until she came to a dirt path that turned into a road. 

Tauriel paused, staring at the hard-packed, pitch-black road in front of her. The sparkling fragments embedded in the surface mirrored the night sky above. The moonlight illuminated the white and yellow lines that appeared to go on as far as she could see. It was unlike anything she knew, with no visible landmarks nearby as she looked back and forth.

She was cold, and felt a sneeze coming on as she rubbed her arms to get warm. Her clothes were still soaked, and when she looked in her pack for a dry tunic and leggings, she sighed in defeat. Everything was damp, which meant she would have to wait a while until they dried completely. She was in no condition to wander around an unfamiliar place and get lost even further. 

Tauriel turned to go back the way she came, intending to stay at the farmstead for the night. She checked the barn first, frowning again when she found it locked with a chain and bolt. It rattled as she pushed against the doors with a hand, but held fast. There were no sounds coming from animals agitated with her presence. She still heard nothing, though she thought her senses would have returned by now. 

Taking a few steps back, she looked for another way in. She hopped onto a lower section of the roof near the hayloft, and pulled the rope to open the hatch. A cloud of dust rose up around her ankles when she jumped in, crouching on the rotting floorboards. The stale air and mouse droppings confirmed that the barn wasn't inhabited. The owner had abandoned it, and that was good enough for her. 

No one would be around to notice she was there.

 

**⚔ ⚔ ⚔**

 

Tauriel decided it wasn't worth the risk to try sleeping in the loft, or one of the empty stalls below. The barn had a lock on the doors for a reason. She crossed one of the support beams to see what else was in the loft on the other side of the barn. As she approached the stacks of hay bales, Tauriel flinched and knelt down. She was overcome by a sudden wave of dizziness that left her ears ringing, and her vision became sharper. The colors were brighter and clear, once again. Although she was too nauseous to appreciate it. 

 She pursed her lips until the sensation passed, then stepped onto the ladder next to the beam. One of the wooden rungs broke under the weight, so she let go and dropped to the floor. Tauriel shivered, but was unwilling to remove the layers of wet clothes that clung to her body. She would have to change soon, if she didn't want to catch a cold. Her immortal nature gave her protection against all manner of disease. She wasn't concerned with falling ill, although she was growing more and more uncomfortable. 

The anxiety that plagued her in the jungle prickled at the back of her mind. Tauriel searched the barn for any sign of life, before she started back up to the loft and out the hatch. She stopped when she spotted a reddish brown stain on the floor, underneath the dirt and straw. She swept the dirt away with her foot, then used a broom that was leaning against a pitchfork. She continued to sweep, until she realized the stain on the floor wasn't the only one. 

Blood splattered the old woodwork, a grim reminder of the violence that had happened. Tauriel didn't want to know the details, but with her curiosity satisfied, she left. She took care not to put too much weight on the ladder, or the rope on the hatch, as she climbed out of the barn. The building was further from the house than she thought, though not by much.

Tauriel walked along the gravel path that led from the barn, to the house. It was also made of the same stone as the fence, and in better condition than the barn. Though she couldn't see any structural damage, Tauriel stepped onto the front porch. She peered into the grimy windows, then tried the door handle. It stuck for a moment, and the door swung open with a loud crack as the lock broke. The elf shrugged, unsheathing a dagger as she entered. 

 

**⚔ ⚔ ⚔**

 

Tauriel moved down the main hall, keeping her guard up as she looked in every room. She went up a flight of stairs to the second floor, and the attic, just in case someone was hiding from her. The house was empty, like the barn, and she expected as much. She sheathed her dagger, and started a fire in the hearth near the kitchen. There were plenty of split logs stacked beside the hearth, and food in the pantry, to her relief. Tauriel wasn't looking forward to going back outside for a while. 

She stripped down and hung up her clothes on a coat rack she had set in front of the fire. It was the best she could do for now. She didn't feel comfortable rummaging through the owner's belongings, looking for things to use. Tauriel wasn't comfortable, period. She missed the warm, sunny days in the South, listening to frogs croak and jungle cats roar. She missed traveling with the merchant caravan, and meeting with the tribes to trade. She even missed the great forest where she had been born, and everything that was familiar to her. 

This land was nothing like her home.

She combed her fingers through her hair to get rid of the tangles, and gave up after a few minutes. Tauriel clutched a ragged blanket around her shoulders, staring into the fire. She wondered whether she had a higher purpose, a reason for being here, if it wasn't some kind of punishment.

For the first time in a long time, she wished she had a friend by her side.


	2. Hunter I

Hunter clamped a hand over his mouth to force the bile down. He swallowed, his throat burned from the stomach acid, and he wanted to look away. 

When he broke into the compound, he expected some kind of resistance. High society vampires kept guards, and security systems for protection, besides their own powers. The older ones had been around long enough to establish themselves, and knew how to hide from humans. They were smart enough to avoid making themselves targets, or so he thought.

He didn't expect for everyone to be dead. 

In-fighting between houses wasn't unusual, although this looked like something from the history books, or the movies. Hunter remembered the dusty film reels that panned over crime scenes, in all their gory detail. The aftermath in front of him was nothing like the black-and-white, sepia-toned photographs left in old case files. He couldn't stop staring in horror at their decapitated bodies. 

The bloodshed and broken bones weren't unfamiliar to him. He committed his fair share of violence, and he wasn't even compelled by a supernatural desire. He was here to kill people, after all. Hunter wondered if his targets - Lina and Isaac - were among the permanently deceased. 

He made his way through the compound, tense and wary as he checked every corpse he saw. If there was enough left to identify them.

Hunter noticed more than a few bullet holes in the walls, and a distinct lack of shells sprinkled on the floor. He stopped to inspect the next person, carefully turning their broken jaw with the barrel of his gun. He wasn't going to take any chances that he could get bitten by a slowly regenerating vampire. Their head was three feet away from their torso, across from a shattered left arm, and an intact right leg. It didn't mean they couldn't put themselves back together, eventually. At least, they could, if their heart and brain remained whole.

The silence unnerved him as he poked around for shrapnel, anything that was left behind. If the group who attacked the compound were professionals, there would be less evidence. What they did to these people was almost enough for Hunter to declare them public enemy number one. He needed to find something incriminating that he could use to trace back to the group, and find them guilty. There had to be more than just a feud that would get swept under the rug. 

He could take a vampire apart on an operating table, awake or unconscious, alive or dead. He could end their lives from afar or up close in the field. He spent the better part of his career doing just that, because he liked his job and he got paid for his time and effort. He never strayed from his missions before, although he had his moments. Hunter was nothing if not loyal to his employers.

But he couldn't imagine doing something like this to an entire household. 

 

**⚔ ⚔ ⚔**

 

Hunter stepped over a crushed skull, mindful of the pink flesh sticking to the bone. He resisted the urge to pick and choose the least damaged parts, and stitch them back together. It wasn't like a vampire could survive without their own body, even if they had the same brain, or not. 

Hunter shoved that particular theory in a drawer in the back of his mind, locked it, and threw away the key. Frankenstein's monster was not something someone tried to recreate just because it was possible. Replacing limbs on humans were one thing, vampires were another thing entirely.

Besides, he was pushing forty, and he didn't want his legacy to be unethical experiments. He would rather fade into obscurity before history counted him among the world's worst. 

Hunter supposed it might not matter so much after he died, but he was still alive, and wanted to stay that way. He had a record, and a reputation to keep. He couldn't just walk into a place, and walk out empty-handed. 

If he didn't at least figure out what happened here and why, he would be out of a job. 

Hunter looked for security cameras next, though he wasn't sure if he would find any in the compound. He knew that vampire-detecting cameras weren't so widespread that every country implemented their use. They were a recent technological advancement, after a few years of trial and error. 

The wars affected every breakthrough of the time. Perfecting anti-vampire methods were the first to go, for the sake of keeping them out of enemy hands. The low population of vampires compared to humans seemed to help with that. 

Not to mention the fact that vampires existing was somewhat of an open and hidden secret. Or a government conspiracy, depending on who asked. There were more people in the world who believed that Santa Claus was real. They outweighed the few who believed the dead walked among the living.

It was easier to accept a benevolent old man who left presents under a tree. But a creature with supernatural abilities that fed off human blood to survive? That was straight out of various mythologies, or someone's nightmares. 

Hunter wished it were just a nightmare, and his entire life ripped from the pages of a Gothic thriller. His existence as the Byronic hero would be preferable at this point. Although he could do without obsessive love interests, and being a terrible person. Or worse, pining for someone even more terrible than he was, before a tragic fate befell them both. He considered himself lucky that he had none of those traits, or at least he didn't think he had them. Nor was he in a relationship with anyone, not anymore.

All the more reason to devote his career and every waking moment to research and discovery. 

Tonight had to be one of the worst discoveries he had made so far. Vampires weren't fragile creatures, and they weren't easy to destroy. They used to be human, once, and humans were notorious for surviving against the odds. Those odds increased with the benefits of becoming a vampire, regardless of the drawbacks. Even so, no matter how fast or strong or magical their bodies became after the change... they were still lying in pieces on the floor.

 

**⚔ ⚔ ⚔**

 

They had taken a few of their attackers with them, it seemed. Hunter didn't recognize some of the people among the thirty-something victims he'd counted. It didn't make him feel any better about creeping around the place. He never enjoyed the darker aspects of his work, which sometimes meant he fought rival groups. He recently came home from one, not that it would ever see the light of day. The general public weren't going to find out what happened here, either. 

As far as his employers were concerned, nothing happened. He was never there. Hunter disagreed. He would always remember each time he slipped further and further away from average life. 

The memories he had now, were of the things he had done, the people he hurt, and who he used to be. If the child he had been all those years ago could see him, if his family knew what happened to the child that became a man? They more than likely wouldn't forgive him. 

They would look at him like he was a monster, and whisper to each other. Maybe they'd flinch when he came around, skittish and wide-eyed, breathless with fear. Despite the fact that he never put them under the knife on his table. Or perhaps they would ask if he couldn't just change, leave it all behind, and pretend.

There was no way to pretend that he hadn't just walked in on the aftermath of a massacre. Or that he was trying to find Lina and Isaac, so he could kill them, if they weren't already dead.

He found the security room and looked through the grainy footage on the monitors. White noise hummed back at him, and he felt a sense of relief. He wouldn't have to hear or watch these people die on screen, and be unable to help. He could do something about it now that he was here. The lack of evidence was enough to know that someone didn't want this traced back to them.

Hunter smirked, and went on his way.

 

**⚔ ⚔ ⚔**

 

The compound was a nice place to live, without the slasher film vibe. It made his skin itch, like rats were gnawing on his fingers, and he knew from experience. The only reason why he didn't have prosthetic fingers or skin grafts was because of Lina's family. He owed them more than his employers knew, and he took a risk by coming here.

His personal connection to his targets was the only reason why he chose to hunt them. He decided to remove both Lina and Isaac as a threat, before anyone else could. 

The crimes they committed were punishable by death, according to supernatural laws. He felt obligated to be the one to carry out the sentence. It wouldn't lessen the pain of losing them, even if they were already dead. But he wouldn't go rogue by accidentally murdering their executioner in a fit of rage.

Hunter moved throughout the compound in search of their corpses. The interconnected buildings held together with a few collapsed walls, shattered windows, and some of it was on fire. The sprinklers in the ceiling left two inches of water in the corridors, ruining what was left of overturned furniture. He was suddenly grateful he hadn't brought a team of people, including a photographer. Having to stop and document every instance of destruction, would have worn on his nerves.

As it was, his nerves were already frayed just by being here. He hadn't even caused any of the damage, but he still felt a lump in the back of his throat. The thought of finding Lina and Isaac, brutally killed like the rest of their house, made his lungs burn. Hunter shook his head to clear his mind, and ignored the faint sensation of smoke inhalation. It wasn't bad enough to make him turn back, and leave.

Hunter reconsidered his decision to stay when he came across Lina's body in a sitting room. Her torso slumped over a coffee table, with a fire poker embedded in her chest, pinning her to the surface. A crossbow bolt took out one of her eyes, and by extension, her brain. Isaac was a charred heap of smoking flesh nearby, the back of his head caved in with a sledgehammer. His outstretched hand, tipped with claws instead of fingernails, reached for Lina.

 

**⚔ ⚔ ⚔**

 

The gramophone on the other side of the room played the dulcet tones of a famous singer. The slow, romantic song brought a sad smile to Hunter's lips as he recalled it was Lina's favorite. She taught him how to dance, after his first stumbling steps as a child, and he never forgot the look on her face. She had been so proud when he filled ladies' dance cards as a boy, and Isaac was happy to see him take after his aunt. 

But that was years ago, when he was young, and hadn't yet become a monster in human form.

He looked down at the dark-haired, dark-skinned woman as he holstered his gun. Hunter reached down, and yanked out the fire poker, then threw it away. He cringed at the sound the crossbow bolt made when he removed that next. He laid Lina on the floor beside Isaac.

Instinct made him look over her lethal injuries, partly out of reassurance and mostly out of hope. He stared at Lina's empty eye socket, and the hole in her chest, and waited for the flesh to regenerate. Sometimes it was instantaneous, though it could take hours or days to heal completely.

Hunter should have known the moment he agreed to be the one to hold Lina and Isaac accountable, he would falter. They were important to him, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He felt like a child again, waiting for them to wake up as the sunlight faded over the horizon. He would have climbed into their coffins like he used to, if it meant they would open their eyes again.

The minutes felt like hours, the longer he watched his aunt. He got up to find refrigerated blood in the kitchen, and returned to try and feed her. He became restless after he attempted to revive Isaac the same way, then left the room, blood in hand. 

Hunter collected the other vampires' bodies, and laid them all out in the sitting room. He matched up their decapitated limbs and heads, and fed the ones whose heads weren't crushed.

It was the least he could do, to put himself at ease. He didn't want to leave them all here, without trying to hasten their recovery, if it were possible. Even if everyone was dead for good, he had done something. 

Besides run off to hunt down the people responsible for this in the first place. 

Hunter felt the urge to scream in frustration as he stood around and waited until the moon was high in the sky. He gritted his teeth and kept silent. Hot tears stung his eyes as he gathered blankets and draped them over their lifeless bodies. He wished he could have done more to save them.

A group of mercenaries had barged into this small, peaceful corner of the world. They destroyed something he held sacred in the back of his mind, where he clung to hope. 

After all these years, he still had Lina and Isaac. They were unchanging, and the foundation of his being.

They were gone.

 

**⚔ ⚔ ⚔**

 

Hunter left the compound a different way from how he entered, through one of the side doors that led to the garage. He walked down the driveway, which angled around the back of the compound via a second private road. If he took a shortcut through the trees, he could make it to where he parked his truck in almost half the time.

He was too emotionally drained to care about how fast he could get out of here. He moved slower than he would have otherwise, and that proved to be a mistake on his part.

The rumbling growl of a motorcycle engine coming closer alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone. It wasn't long before the headlights blinded him as the vehicle came roaring up the road. Hunter shielded his eyes from the glow with one arm, and had his other hand on his holster. 

The motorcycle lurched to a stop in front of him, the headlights angled away, into the trees. Hunter lowered his arm to get a better look at the driver, as she hopped off the motorcycle. She placed her helmet on the empty seat, before turning to face him. The grief surged anew as he recognized her, and he had difficulty finding the right words to say.

"Reika?" he whispered, following the young woman's gaze from him, to the compound behind him. Her red eyes widened, her nostrils flared a bit as she caught the scent of her brethren, and she took a step forward. Hunter held out both hands to block her path, but it was like holding back a tidal wave. "Reika, don't. They're gone, I'm sorry, but everyone -"

Hunter felt breathless as she slammed a fist into his chest. Her nails turned claws ripped into his bulletproof vest, and he hit the ground. He was six-foot-one, weighed ninety kilos, and Reika had just swatted him like a fly. 

If she hadn't been wearing finger-less gloves, they'd have torn through the leather. Or his skin. He tried not to think about that, as he rolled onto his side and pushed himself to his feet, wincing.

Reika glared at him, her fangs descending over her primary set of teeth. "I left you once, Hunter, and look at how well that turned out. I'm not going to bury you along with the rest of our family. You're all I have, and I can't catch these bastards by myself. So, where do we start?"

Hunter inhaled as best he could, his lungs protesting through the strain. Or the smoke, which was more likely. "I have more equipment in my truck. There's a safe house, about seventy miles from here..." he murmured as he rubbed his neck, "Where were you, during all... this?" He waved a hand at the compound, grimacing because he sounded bitter, like he blamed her.

"Chasing the bastards, and eating the ones I caught after I interrogated them. We weren't completely unprepared for this, although we lost more people than expected. Some of us managed to fight back and escape, but I don't know where the others are, now." Reika admitted, hopping back on her motorcycle as she started it up again. 

"I just wanted a nice holiday in the country... is that too much to ask?" she grumbled under her breath, holding her helmet out to him. "Well, what are you waiting for? Get on." 

Hunter rolled his eyes and a tiny smile flickered across his face. "I'm glad you're safe." he said, his words a little stilted as the pain in his chest lessened, and he sat behind her. "I didn't even know you were here, I thought you'd gone overseas." he added, putting on the helmet and wrapping his arms around her waist. "I missed you, you know."

"Yeah, well, I got bored killing people over there, and decided to come back. Stop, before you make me sick. I'm going to hurl if you get any more sentimental." Reika shuddered, the sensation rolling through her, and Hunter smirked. She circled the courtyard once, then drove away from the compound. She broke the speed limit in her haste to put the incident behind them, but Hunter wasn't going to complain. 

When they reached the stoplight that would take them to the highway, Reika squeezed his hand. He expected her to elbow him in the ribs, so he took it as a good sign. "I missed you, too." she said, her voice sharp and clear over the rumbling engine, and the light changed from red to green.

Hunter smiled, and tightened his hold on her waist. He closed his eyes, and bit back a quiet sigh of resignation. How was he going to explain this to his employers when he returned to headquarters? He couldn't exactly drag a vampire into their stronghold without a reason. 

Even if it was Reika.

He frowned as he thought about it. The fact that she returned to the compound, as he was leaving, was just a coincidence. She said that she and some others got out of the attack, but with the security footage gone, he couldn't verify it. Not even through audio recordings. 

There was no reason for him to consider her an enemy... 

Was there? 


	3. Reika I

Reika gazed at the open road as the countryside passed them by, fading in the rear view mirror. She rolled down the window to feel the wind flow through her fingers. Reika leaned back as it rushed into the cab, lifting up her wavy black hair. She raked out any potential tangles, though she didn't mind all that much. Her braid had already come undone, during the drive to Hunter's truck, but it had been worth it. 

Her motorcycle was in the back, with the rest of Hunter's things, and rattled every so often. She had strapped it down to keep it from slipping on the truck bed, then covered it with a tarp just in case. Both vehicles were old enough to be almost obsolete, not that anyone would notice. Unless they were someone like her, or Hunter.

She spent the last three weeks chasing people, and refused to take their vehicles for her own. It helped to confuse them at first, but didn't take long for them to realize that she wasn't part of their group. Even though she switched cars at a few checkpoints, she felt safer using her motorcycle. It was preferable to driving a rigged vehicle that could explode from a remote detonator. 

The trail Reika had been following stopped cold, somewhere between four country borders. She loitered around a gas station with magazines ten years out of date, and used all the coin she had to call May. Reika stayed on the phone while May organized the cleanup plan for the compound. They had to do it before the authorities got involved, and had questions they couldn't answer. When everything was in place, Reika returned to the compound. 

Reika didn't know what she thought she would find there, but it wasn't Hunter. 

She glanced at the man beside her, who still looked the same as he had thirty - or was it fifty? - years ago. She couldn't tell anymore. Time meant nothing and everything to vampires. It meant more to those who drank vampire blood to stay young without dying to achieve immortality. Of course it was also entertaining to kill those people, and listen to them complain. For about five seconds. 

Oh, how they'd scream and beg and cry. How could she, why would she, please, not again. They'd give her anything she wanted, if she just let them live. They didn't actually mean it, they didn't want to die and sacrifice their humanity. It was just that they weren't ready, they just wanted more time, this was a mistake. Or something like that, but she wasn't paying attention. 

Newsflash - no one was ready to die, and because it was fun.

Reika didn't offer her condolences, as her thoughts turned to Hunter's aunt and uncle. She couldn't say something, without coming across as insincere. She always had trouble empathizing with other people, even when she was human. Hunter told her it was something to do with how her mind worked, and not because of the transformation. She forgot what he called it, but she remembered he took pictures of her brain and showed her what it looked like. 

"I'm sorry I left." she said after a moment, pulling her hand back when she felt raindrops on her knuckles. She rolled up the window, ignoring how her skin crawled as she closed it. Reika could see his reflection in the glass, and turned to look at him as he met her gaze, but stayed silent. "I needed space, after..." 

Hunter nodded. "I remember what you said, then. I know what you're trying to say, now. You don't have to apologize for that. I think we're long past holding grudges, Reika." The boyish smile that was so familiar to her, lit up his face, although it didn't reach his eyes. He was still processing the death of his family, and the knowledge that he'd never see them again.

Not this time.

 

**⚔ ⚔ ⚔**

 

The rain turned into a storm that flooded the bridge they were going to cross. Hunter had to turn back, and take shelter at a diner a few miles down the road. He suggested they take the chance to rest and get something to eat, until the storm let up. Then they could go to the safe house, instead of driving in bad weather.

Reika fidgeted in her seat as she looked outside, and tried not to flee into the wilderness. The walls weren't closing in on her, the ceiling wasn't coming down to crush her, so why did she feel like they were? There was no logical reason for her to be claustrophobic right now, she understood that. She kept her reactions in check most of the time, to the best of her ability, but some days were worse than others. 

It was probably just the storm making her senses go haywire. 

 She eyed the door when the bell jingled, and caught her attention. A man in dark clothes stood in the entrance, closed his umbrella, and tipped his hat to her in greeting. She smiled back as he took off his long coat and sat at the counter. He ordered coffee, steak and potatoes with a side of bread and butter. 

The waitress wrote down his order, and gave it to the cook before she poured his coffee. She twirled a lock of curled blonde hair around her finger as she asked him if he needed anything else. When he shook his head, the waitress moved on to take care of the other customers. Reika wondered if the woman was attempting to flirt with the man, or if she was just bored with working tonight.

There was an old man in a suit sitting at the counter, reading a newspaper. A woman with a pearl necklace fed sausage bits to the tiny dog in her purse. Two children were busy coloring on paper in another booth, giggling about planes. Their frazzled-looking mother was speaking in low tones to their tired-looking father. A surly young woman huddled over a cup of hot tea by the jukebox. An even younger man slept in the booth behind her, sprawled out despite the lack of space.

Reika looked back at Hunter, his head bent over a map as he shoveled pancakes into his mouth. He was drawing connections to the routes she took to capture some of the group, before she lost the trail. He also seemed to be marking the locations of different safe houses along the way. She wondered if the distraction helped, so he wouldn't have a breakdown in the middle of nowhere.

"I can't figure it out. Where the hell did they go?" Hunter put down his pen, and slumped in his seat. The fork in his right hand clattered on the ceramic plate as he let go, and picked up his coffee instead.

"I told you everything I can remember." she said, keeping her voice low. Despite the storm outside, Reika wanted to preserve the cozy atmosphere in the diner. She used it to her advantage, so Hunter felt a measure of safety, even though she was sitting across from him. "Three weeks, and not a damn sign, after that? I almost called Naomi."

Hunter blinked, his hazel eyes widening at her admission. His knuckles turned white around the curve of the cup's handle. "There's no reason to involve her in anything." he muttered, his shoulders hunched as a vein in his temple throbbed. "I need to use the restroom." 

"You wanna tell me _why_ I shouldn't involve my wife?" 

Reika watched him slide out of the booth, and practically run away from her. She saw him go into the men's restroom, the door swinging open and then it slammed shut. The noise echoed throughout the diner, loud enough to startle the other customers. Reika bit the inside of her cheek, instead of baring her teeth at them in a display of aggression. She crossed her arms over her small chest, and slouched in her seat, muttering in her native tongue.

"No? Right, then." 

 

**⚔ ⚔ ⚔**

 

"Refill, darlin'?" 

The vampire looked up at the waitress, who gestured to Hunter's abandoned cup. Reika gave a short nod, relieved for the interruption. It was better than being alone with her thoughts. "Yes, please..." She pushed the cup closer to the blonde woman, and glanced at her name tag. "Thank you, Gladys."

Gladys smiled, and filled the cup. Her lipstick was a beautiful shade of red that reminded Reika of ripe strawberries. "You need anything else, hon? Maybe somethin' to eat? You look awful pale..." she sounded concerned, but before Reika could respond, the woman gasped. "Oh, dear! Your nose is bleeding!" she exclaimed, quick to put a few napkins in Reika's open palm. "Are you all right?"

Reika flinched, startled. She touched the corner of a napkin above her lip, and pulled it away. Sure enough, the thin paper turned dark as her blood stained it. She crumpled the napkin up and pressed it against her left nostril to staunch the flow. "I'm fine. I'll be fine. Thank you." she murmured. 

"I'll get you some soup. That'll warm you right up." Gladys rested her hand on Reika's shoulder for a moment, before she walked to the back of the diner. The row of leather and chrome stools, and the raised bar and counter put more distance between her and Reika. She disappeared through a set of swinging doors, to the kitchen.

Reika stared after the blonde, feeling her fangs poking through her gums. She hid a smirk behind her hand as she tilted her head up, and looked at the ceiling. The old-fashioned lights flickered after thunder blasted through the ominous clouds.

The vampire stood, walking to the restroom so she could throw away the napkins, and wash her face. She passed Hunter as he came out, and looked mildly confused that she had a nosebleed, but at least he was calm.  She rolled her eyes when he raised an eyebrow, and slapped his hand away gently when he tried to take a closer look. 

"Go drink your coffee, Kit. I'll survive." she drawled, gesturing to the booth. The slip-up didn't go unnoticed, as Hunter stared at her like a deer in the headlights. Reika pushed the ladies' restroom door open with her arm, and she lowered the hand she had on her nose.

"What? You look like you just saw a ghost. Seriously, though, your coffee's going to get cold." Reika stepped into the restroom, then turned to close the door. "Oh, and don't eat my soup." she added, spotting Gladys leaving the kitchen with a bowl on her serving tray.

"Nothing, it's nothing." Hunter nodded, his smile a little strained. "Of course." He went back to the booth, leaving Reika to her own devices. 

Reika tossed the napkins in the bin by the door, and grabbed paper towel from the stack on the counter. She turned on the faucet, wincing as the pipes squeaked, before hot water poured out. She cupped her hands and splashed her face, then wiped it clean. Her nose stopped bleeding after a couple minutes, to her delight. 

" _Finally_..." 

She took the time to use the facilities while she was there, washed and dried her hands, then fixed her hair. She put it up in a loose ponytail, and straightened her clothes, before she left the restroom. 

Reika walked past the man with the newspaper as he fiddled with his pocket watch, and smelled like ink. The woman with the toy dog applied more rouge to her cheeks, and barely spared Reika a glance. The man in the hat was drinking his second cup of coffee, and eating a slice of pecan pie.

The storm outside picked up, rain splashing the windows till they rattled. The noise seemed to disturb the children, who were listening to their mother read a passage from a book. It didn't bother the young woman by the jukebox, as she curled around her drink. The young man sleeping in the back booth woke with a jolt as lightning struck. For a moment, it was blinding and white in the otherwise dimly lit diner.

Reika let out a quiet huff of laughter as her senses distorted, and the floor rushed up to meet her. A pair of arms wrapped around her waist and upper back as she spun around to see who spared her the embarrassment of collapsing in a dead faint. She stared at the man in the hat, unable to help the blush that rose to her cheeks, because he just had to be a gentleman. 

He held her like she was a damsel in distress, or a dance partner he just dipped for an impromptu kiss. Reika refused to consider it, as he kept holding her, as though he were afraid to let her go. The seconds felt like hours, and she was not the type to break the silence and speak first.

She didn't look across the room at Hunter to see his reaction. She focused on the man's face, trying to place him in her memories, as she wondered if they met before. His pale green eyes were almost hypnotic, and although he had strong features, he was a stranger. 

Darkness engulfed the diner as the power went out. 

 

**⚔ ⚔ ⚔**

 

Reika smiled as she breathed in the scent of ozone and petrichor the moment she stepped outside. The last bit of rain trickled down the roof, into a puddle. She watched the two children barrel past her, and their exhausted parents. They jumped into the puddle, one after the other, to their father's dismay as they went on to their car. 

The young woman and man were next to leave, both of them wiping the sleep from their eyes. Then the woman with the dog, and the man with his newspaper rolled up under his arm. They gave Reika a wide berth, as she moved away from them in turn. 

"We should get going. We still have thirty-five miles left." Hunter said as he walked up to her. He tucked the map into his inside jacket pocket. The cold breeze ruffled his chestnut brown hair, and he reached up to run his fingers through it. His efforts were in vain, as he succeeded in making his hair look more windswept than ever. 

Reika glanced in the window behind her. She could see the man with the hat pay for his food and drink, and pull on his coat. Gladys was clearing away plates and cups, and Reika's empty bowl of soup. "Give me a minute?" she said, looking back at Hunter. "Make sure the rain didn't ruin anything in the truck." 

Hunter gave her a short nod. "Don't take too long." He walked off to where he parked his truck.

Reika waited to see if Hunter would look over his shoulder at her. When he didn't, she turned to go back in the diner, and bumped into the other man as he was leaving. She blinked in surprise when he reached out, his hands heavy on her shoulders as he held her steady. He seemed to have a habit of physically supporting people. 

"Hey, stranger." she greeted, watching his umbrella handle swing in the crook of his arm for a second. "Need a lift?" 

"Hey, yourself." he murmured, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I don't have anywhere else to be, and I _do_ enjoy your company. So I could take you up on your offer. Unless you were joking, in which case, I can just stay here." 

The playful remark made Reika pause, as she had heard something similar in the last three weeks. "Well, I have somewhere to be, and I did enjoy your company. Too bad we're not on holiday, Wesley." she said, her tone light and even, in spite of the fact that it might have been a bad move to call him out. 

Wesley withdrew his hands immediately, as though burned. "Oh, _shit_ , it's _you_. I'm sorry, please don't leave my body on the side of the road. I had nothing to do with it, I swear." He tried to defend himself against her subtle accusation, as though it mattered to her.

Reika tilted her head slightly, both entertained and annoyed. "I know. I don't care. Are you coming or not?" She gestured to Hunter's truck, where the other man was waiting for her in the driver's seat.

"Really?" Wesley sounded shocked, even after she nodded. "Then yes. I am." 

 

**⚔ ⚔ ⚔**

 

"Remind me why I agreed to this?" Wesley whispered in Reika's ear, as Hunter looked at him again. She was sitting in the middle while Hunter drove, acting as a physical buffer zone between the two men. "Never mind..." 

The vampire had remained silent for the last twenty-five miles. After she explained to Hunter that Wesley would be joining them, she stalled any argument he made. Reika didn't bother to add that she met Wesley on the back roads in another country during her murder spree. She figured it was a need to know basis, and Hunter didn't need to know yet.

"Because you're as bored as I am?" Reika suggested, toying with her gloves to occupy her hands. It was the safer option, next to scratching the seat with her nails. 

Hunter slowed down as the safe house came into view. A large stone fence lined the roadside for a few acres on either side, and the fields looked overgrown. She wondered when the last time anyone had been there. When Hunter reached the turnoff, Reika saw faint grey smoke rising from the chimney.

He parked on the side of the house, in a dilapidated carport. "I didn't think anyone would be here." Hunter admitted as the three of them got out of the truck, and approached the front door.

"Let's have a look, shall we?" Reika pocketed her gloves, then knocked on the door. When no one answered, she went inside, holding one arm back to keep Hunter and Wesley outside. She could take more damage than they could, and she didn't want to deal with injured humans. Unless she was the one doing the injuring. 

Reika smelled someone unfamiliar, but it was more than that. It was like nothing she recognized, and it excited her. She walked further into the house, following the scent and going into the living room. The scent was strongest there, in front of the hearth, where there was a still-burning fire. 

"Well? Who is it?" Hunter called softly.

Reika turned to answer him, when she saw a flash of green and red out of the corner of her eye. A warm hand closed around her shoulder, and she was suddenly pinned to the floor, with a dagger to her throat. She stared up at the pale-skinned, auburn-haired woman straddling her waist. It wasn't often that someone got the drop on her, least of all another supernatural creature.

"Mi van me?Sevig thû úan." said the woman, demanding and aggressive, and a little confused. Reika could smell the emotional turmoil coming off the woman in waves, and closed her dark brown eyes. She gritted her teeth so she didn't bite the woman on accident, even though she was within her rights. 

"I don't know, but there's a knife involved." Reika called back, opening her eyes as the woman applied more pressure to her throat. The edge of the blade was close to nicking her skin, and drawing blood. Reika wasn't about to start a fight with someone whose abilities she didn't know. She was confident and reckless, but she didn't have a death wish.   

"Mi van me?" the woman repeated. Her eyes were wide, and her auburn hair fell over her shoulder, revealing pointed ears. 

"That's new." Reika commented under her breath. The woman looked at her in confusion. Reika assumed the woman heard her speak, and they were in a rather compromising position. She was too irritated to even contemplate how she would enjoy it otherwise. 

Wesley ran into the house, his footsteps loud compared to Hunter, who was going around the back. He had a gun drawn, and looked rather tense as he came into the living room. It was moments like this, that Reika remembered exactly what kind of person he was, to react this way. The only difference was that they were on the same side, now. 

"Let her go, and I _won't_ kill you. Maybe." he ordered. 

He leveled his gun at the woman, just as Hunter barged in through the back door and mimicked Wesley. The green-eyed man traded a look with Hunter, who pointed his gun at the woman's back, instead of her head. Wesley had no qualms about taking a head-shot. Reika knew that, and she glared at him for it.

" _Let her go_!" Hunter snarled, and fired his gun at the floor beside the two women. He looked just as terrified as the auburn-haired woman, who cried out at the sound, and backed off. She even dropped her dagger, and covered her ears with both hands as she cowered in a corner of the room. 

Wesley trained his gun on the woman, as he kept her in his sights, and left her with nowhere to run. The way he looked at her, prepared to do anything he had to... It reminded Reika that even though he seemed weak, he was strong enough to face her in a fight that lasted for two days. 

Reika sat up, and rubbed her throat. She grunted when Hunter embraced her, trembling as badly as the other woman. She could smell salt on his skin as he buried his face in her hair, and kissed the top of her head. "I'm good, really." she murmured, returning the embrace as Hunter helped her to her feet. She didn't push him to the floor, though she wanted to. 

Hunter picked up the dagger, and turned it over in his hand. He passed it to Reika, while he regained his composure. The fear of losing her was palpable, and the vampire leaned into his side as she inspected the blade. She glanced at the woman, who had gone quiet. Or maybe a little deaf, and her ears were still ringing from the gunshot. 

"I have _no idea_ who that woman is, but can we keep her?" 

"You can't be _serious_ , Reika! She could have _killed_ you!" 

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks."

"Still bored?" Wesley grinned at Reika over his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> Mi van me? - Where are we? 
> 
> Sevig thû úan. - You smell like a monster.


	4. Tauriel II

Apprehension made her hesitate; a split second decision to ignore them or obey. High-pitched ringing accompanied the warning shot, followed by disorienting pain. The assault on her senses twice in one day was overwhelming, and she thought only of finding relief. Her dagger lay forgotten, released in her haste to protect her ears. She leaned against the wall, waiting for the moment to pass, once they made no move to attack her again.

Tauriel almost thought the storm returned to whisk her away South. She tried to recall if she encountered a certain flower on her trek through the jungle... Vivid hallucinations were the least of her worries, if she lay paralyzed in Harad. She wished this were only a nightmare brought on by inhaling too much pollen. Tauriel was no stranger to the torment of one's own mind, when beset by subconscious fears. Even at her worst, she wouldn't create a dream world this strange.

The scent of smoke lingered in the air, burning her lungs as she inhaled, gasping for breath. Desperate to calm her nerves, Tauriel raked her hands through her auburn tresses. She refused to lose herself to panic, while she was at the trio's mercy. She smelled the hearth-fire burning low in the next room, and the others with her. There were traces of the woman's unnatural odor on her clothes and skin, where they had touched. It was too soon for Tauriel to determine the woman's true nature, or the scope of her abilities, if there were any.

Her assailant might have been of Telerin or Easterling descent, if Tauriel had to guess. She was shorter than the average Man by at least six inches, standing next to the brunet, who was Legolas's height. Her high-collared jacket was longer in the back than the front, with a pair of gloves tucked into a pocket. Rough-spun blue leggings tucked into mid-calf black boots. There were no weapons on her person save Tauriel's dagger.

Tauriel listened to them talk and observed how they addressed each other by name. Hunter was the shooter, and most discomfited by her presence, not that she could blame him. She wouldn't put it past herself to do the same, were their positions reversed. Wesley remained steadfast in his resolve to guard Tauriel, uncertainty masked by confidence. The woman, Reika, appeared to be curious about her and indifferent to her all at once.

The heated argument between Hunter and Reika continued to hold Tauriel's attention. Few words and pronunciations resembled her mother tongue, or other dialects she knew. Their accents were closer to Khuzdul and Dunlendish, than Sindarin or Westron. Although she wasn't partaking in the discussion, Tauriel understood.

Hunter wanted nothing to do with her, or the danger she posed to them.  
  


⚔ ⚔ ⚔  


It wasn't long before Wesley tried to diffuse the argument, to their displeasure. Voicing his opinion had little effect on the duo, until he holstered his weapon and shoved them apart. Reika pushed his forearm aside with the flat of Tauriel's dagger, so his hand no longer rested upon her chest. The indecency of his actions didn't upset her, Tauriel noticed. As Wesley stared Reika down, his free hand hovered near his weapon, to use it against Reika if need be.

Reika lifted her arms in surrender before she stepped away, leaving Wesley to deal with Hunter. She crossed the room to stand in front of the elf and smiled  softly, offering the dagger hilt first. The gesture spoke volumes about the woman. She was too trusting and naive to think that Tauriel wouldn't stab her the first chance she got. The mutinous expression on Reika's face said otherwise. She had no qualms about entertaining violence.

"Thank you." Tauriel said in Sindarin, voice low and cautious, for fear of provoking her captors. She took the dagger, her fingers brushing against Reika's as the woman let go. A jolt of electricity sparked from the brief contact, and warmth bloomed between them. They locked eyes as Tauriel sheathed her dagger, then stood. She wasn't aware of how close Reika had gotten until Hunter spoke, his voice quite sharp. He took offense to her decision to approach Tauriel again, it seemed.

Reika rolled her eyes, muttering something under her breath as she turned on her heel to face him. She threw up her arms in frustration, beckoning Hunter to challenge her. Tauriel looked at Hunter over the top of Reika's head, meeting his glare with one of her own. The shorter woman behaved like a fool, inviting a slit throat, were Tauriel anyone else... Or in the mood to murder someone as  swiftly  as possible.

Instead of starting yet another argument, Reika saw fit to leave the room, with Tauriel on her heels. The further she was from Hunter, the better. The man was right to worry for his companion's safety, but Tauriel was in no position to bargain for her own life. She had already encroached upon whatever relationship he had with the black-haired woman.

Tauriel collected her belongings from the hearth-room to prevent theft. She didn't trust them not to steal her pack filled with all her worldly possessions. Though Reika had returned her dagger without prompting to do so, that didn't mean she was good. She slung the strap over her shoulder, and followed Reika outside. The humid night air wafting across her skin in a familiar sensation brought her some comfort. Tauriel closed the front door behind her. Hunter and Wesley's muffled conversation gave way to silence.  
  


⚔ ⚔ ⚔   


Gravel squished into the mud underfoot. Some of it seeped through Tauriel's boots, a sudden reminder that she had yet to replace them. She sighed  quietly, shaking her head to  indicate  she wasn't upset when Reika stopped to look at her. The other woman shrugged, walking to the broken-down shelter next to the house.

A large metal carriage on thick black wheels with silver spokes, sat parked in front of them. The Warg-like growling she heard during their approach and arrival was absent. Its seating area had metal doors built up and around it, inlaid with see-through glass on all sides. Smaller glass circles and squares set into the front, where lanterns would be.

Tauriel gawked at the technological feat, wondering how much time and money it cost to make such a thing. Mûmakil harnesses were two-tiered, like Southron caravans. Crafted from wood, leather, and small bits of metal to secure everything. Thick, sturdy cloth tents and curtains attached to the harnesses kept the elements at bay.

She glanced from the hitch attached on the underside of the carriage, to the empty barn in the distance.

"Where are the horses?" she asked in Westron.

"Huh?" Reika said in acknowledgement, as she climbed up the side and began untying ropes with both hands. Her eyesight and dexterity went unimpeded by the surrounding darkness. She should have needed a lantern or torch to see, as she folded back the over-sized cloth.

Tauriel nodded towards the barn, then pointed to the front-mounted hitch. "Where are the horses?" she repeated, unsure of how to describe draft animals with the language barrier. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility that horses weren't domesticated here.

Reika paused to look where Tauriel was pointing, and shook her head. She resumed rummaging around for whatever she wanted. She pulled a container from somewhere, set it aside, then brought out a bedroll along with a bag of extra clothes. Tauriel caught a whiff of what smelled like herbs and oils for bathing and hair.

Disappointment curled in Tauriel's chest, but she pressed on, trying another language. Then another, and another, fumbling through various blended dialects... Including Orc-bastardized Black Speech, in the hopes that Reika understood _one_. Something, _anything_ , was better than _nothing_!

Southron poured from her like a river, flowing into Sindarin.

" _Rhaich_!" she exclaimed, clenching her fists. Reika laughed and hopped over the edge, picking up the container by the handle. Tauriel wondered if Reika might know Sindarin after all, until the truth occurred to her. The word for 'curses' sounded almost like the woman's name.  Belatedly  , she realized they had never been  properly  introduced.

Mortified, the elf was quick to apologize, and helped carry the rest of Reika's things. "Im Tauriel." she told her at last, gesturing to herself. The woman repeated it to her satisfaction.

She clapped Tauriel on the shoulder in solidarity. "Reika." said the woman, enunciating her own name so Tauriel recognized the difference. Reika was smiling at her again, kinder this time. She had  disturbingly  sharp canines, but they didn't detract from her pleasant features.

Tauriel smiled back, despite her initial misgivings. "Mae g'ovannen." she greeted, walking back into the house, toeing off her muddy boots and socks by the door, before going upstairs with Reika.

 

⚔ ⚔ ⚔

 

Dusty bed-linens and moth-eaten pillows were in each bedroom, to their dismay. They made quick work of changing the sheets and covers in the largest room, ignoring the others. Fresh linens didn't improve the staleness permeating the entire house. Tauriel opened the windows that weren't sealed, creating a cross-draft to clear the air.

Reika translated basic words and phrases for Tauriel as they cleaned together under the dim glow of artificial lights. It was a little humbling to be learning a new language from the start, but Tauriel was glad to have someone to talk to. She enjoyed their stilted conversation, filled with awkward corrections and mistakes. Living in solitude suited her well after all these years, yet she longed for friendship.

The bathroom went from grimy to polished, and the plumbing still worked. The sink's faucet leaked, but at least they could use the tub to shower, and the toilet was a lost cause for now. They would have to make do with the downstairs bathroom,  however  long they intended to stay. Tauriel wasn't inclined to travel alone until she learned more about this place.

She sat down in a rickety wooden chair, tossing the threadbare cushion on the floor. It wasn't as comfortable as she would have liked, so she moved again. The floorboards creaked under the pressure, and she heard Wesley roll over on the bed across the hall. Hunter lay sleeping downstairs, which should have reassured her. It didn't soothe the fact that she felt restless and uncertain around him.

"Tauriel, stop." whispered Reika, catching Tauriel's gaze staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her unbound hair fell in black waves past her elbows, framing her tired face like a living shadow. Reika yanked her shirt up and over her head, discarding it along with her jeans, underwear and socks.

In the flesh, Reika was a portrait of strength. Very well-defined muscles complimented her powerful figure. Tauriel stood transfixed by the sight, at odds with the image Reika presented, and the person she was. Her clothes were part of the deception. The tailoring emphasized her lithe and unassuming nature as a woman.

What kind of life did she lead, that she felt the need to hide?

Old pipes rattling with hot water and hissing steam brought Tauriel out of her reverie. Indoor rain for bathing was a luxury she missed, and so did Reika, it seemed. She had turned her face up into the spray, like a flower following the sun.

"Get in before the hot water's all gone.  
  


⚔ ⚔ ⚔  


Reika might not have actually said as much, but the meaning behind her tone was crystal clear. She wasn't one for modesty when it came to limited resources, either. Tauriel undressed and joined the other woman in the shower. Reika identified her hair and skin products beforehand so Tauriel wouldn't get confused. The bottles lined up on the built-in shelf, with labels Tauriel couldn't read. They all looked the same, except for the colors.

Since her hair would take a while, Tauriel started lathering it with shampoo in sections. She relaxed as Reika's unnatural scent began to fade, not wanting to admit how it affected her. Reika passed the soap over the juncture of her neck and throat, and the rest of her, leaving a neutral scent behind.

They finished bathing, toweled themselves off, and dressed in their clean clothes. Tauriel was looking for an extra towel or two to dry her hair before her clothes got wet, when Reika tapped her on the arm. She held up an odd, tankard-shaped device, a cord hanging from the end. It looked  similar to  Hunter and Wesley's weapons, but served a different function.

"What is that?" Tauriel waited for an explanation, and received a demonstration.

She watched Reika place the cord's metal prongs into the square box on the wall by the counter, and pressed a button. The device turned on, blowing hot air through a grate covering the fan inside. Reika used it to dry a lock of her own hair first, before she offered it to Tauriel. The woman told her how to shut it off and change the settings, which were simple enough.

"A _hair dryer_?" Tauriel echoed in disbelief, still trying to process the literal gift Reika had  just  given her to borrow.  
  
"Yes - you're welcome." Reika confirmed, her Sindarin pronunciation a little stilted as she switched mid-sentence. She left the elf's side to close the windows, then climbed into the bed she had chosen earlier, burrowing under the blankets. She was fast asleep by the time Tauriel was done with her routine, and lying on the bed across from her. 

Perhaps it wouldn't be so terrible to stay here for a while.


	5. Hunter II

"You wanna tell me what that was all about, last night? Or are you gonna argue again? Cause this won't end well - for anyone - if you keep acting like a maniac."

Wesley had taken it upon himself to be the mediator, ever since Hunter's fight with Reika. Their argument turned personal, and Hunter wasn't prepared for it. Wesley stepped in, placating the vampire with  just  a look and a firm hand. He knew more than he let on, only getting involved when Hunter threatened to lock her in a room and throw away the key. She promised to bury him alive, so he could see how he liked it.

Then Reika went right ahead with her foolish idea to gain the redhead's trust, and left. He hadn't spoken to her since, preferring to avoid both women. The vampire's penchant for befriending her would-be killers was an unbreakable habit. If Reika managed to succeed, she would claim to have gained another valuable and loyal asset. Hunter suspected Wesley was no exception.

"Well?" Wesley said in an encouraging tone. He stayed tight-lipped about his own circumstances. When pressed, he glossed over his tenuous bond of friendship with Reika as symbiotic. Hunter concluded the man agreed to be her private blood bag, and had asked for her blood in exchange.

Hunter scoffed at the suggestion, and ran his finger down the inventory list of supples stored in the house. "I don't think  so." he retorted, unwilling to indulge the man's whims. Combat didn't always instill a sense of camaraderie between people. He had everything - including his name - stripped from him decades ago. There was no reason to become involved other than as a passing acquaintance.

"You have no right to interfere. Unless you're a trusted member of Reika's household, I'm going to keep it between her and I." he continued. He couldn't stop himself from lacing acid into his next words: " _Are you_?"

Wesley's green eyes burned with anger, breaking his otherwise calm demeanor. "No!" he exclaimed, insulted by the underlying rejection. "I  just  don't want to listen to your drama longer than I have to. Talk to her, and _deal_ with it, or _I_ _will_."

Hunter raised an eyebrow. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." he said  dryly. Eighty-five years and he was still getting reprimanded by complete strangers. As soon as he got to headquarters, he would schedule an appointment with his therapist. He needed a healthier outlet, and taking his emotions out on Wesley and Reika wasn't a good substitute.

"I don't like unnecessary drama, because people refuse to communicate. It's petty, and stupid." Wesley huffed, frowning, as he knelt to inspect a stack of kerosene lamps.

The attic contained nothing of interest besides records left by other hunters. Anything of worth was likely traded or sold years ago. Land ownership hadn't reverted to the sovereignty, as the farmhouse sat abandoned. Control over the federation's territories waned with each passing century.

"We're all keeping secrets, Wesley." Hunter pointed out, "It's self-preservation."

 

⚔ ⚔ ⚔

 

At a quarter past noon, Tauriel found Hunter and Wesley in the kitchen. She looked apprehensive as their conversation ceased, anticipating she was unwelcome. She clutched battered, folded up parchment in one hand.

Hunter kicked out one of six mismatched chairs around the table, and gestured for her to sit. She nodded in acknowledgement, after she  surreptitiously  checked for a gun. Once she was sure he didn't have an ulterior motive to shoot her from under the table, Tauriel took a seat.

She unfolded the parchment, laying it out across the ugly yellow Formica tabletop. Tauriel showed them an old map written in foreign script labeling different countries. She had more pages, detailing landmarks, waterways, settlements, and roads. "Ennorath. Harad. Where?" she asked  hesitantly, searching their faces for recognition.

"I don't know." Hunter frowned  thoughtfully, then shrugged at Tauriel.

"Law iston." she translated  helpfully.

The map appeared to be ancient, only due to the fact that no one used parchment anymore. He supposed she could be a recently awakened pure-blood, but they were few and far between. Not all pure-bloods who went to sleep centuries or millennia ago, woke again. Not while their countries were at war, and their resting places destroyed in the conflict.

"Ennorath?" Wesley propped his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his palm. "We're in Eastern Ødegård. I've never heard of Harad, have you?" he murmured, looking up at Hunter. "Unless it's a name that wasn't recorded in the history books." Ødegård itself had been renamed after a failed rebellion, and was sparsely populated.

Tauriel glanced between them in confusion and hope. "Yes?" she tried.

"Maybe." Hunter paused. "That doesn't mean it doesn't exist somewhere." said Hunter, rising from his chair to reach into his jacket. He pulled out the map of Ødegård he had been using to mark his progress, and compared it to Tauriel's. No local names, nor the country's shape, lined up with hers.

"Give me a minute."

Hunter left the kitchen to scrounge up an atlas or three he'd spotted on a bookshelf in what used to be an office. He returned with several maps, arranging them by era to see if they matched any part of Tauriel's map. Borders and landmarks had changed enough that a pure-blood wouldn't recognize what was supposed to be their homeland.

Paper covered every inch of the table, and spilled onto the floor, before Tauriel deemed the comparison unsuccessful.

Ennorath was nowhere to  be found.

Tauriel clenched her fists, white knuckles and a faint tremor the only sign that she was losing her composure. She stared blankly ahead, as Hunter gathered the maps into a haphazard pile. He knelt to clear the floor, gently resting his hand on her back. She flinched, her dark eyes glistening with tears, which she hastily blinked away. 

"Don't worry. These aren't the only maps in the world. I know someone who might be able to help." he said softly, not wanting to scare her any more than he already had. They didn't trust each other, but Tauriel was lost, and possibly years outside of her original time.   


 

⚔ ⚔ ⚔  


 

The rest of the month passed without further incident. 

They decided to leave the farmhouse after Tauriel eventually revealed that she had mysteriously appeared in a field, and hadn't crawled out of a tomb somewhere in the region. Whatever magic had brought her to Ødegård left no trace that they could detect without the proper tools. Wesley was convinced the place was haunted, despite zero evidence of poltergeist activity. Reika thought it was perfectly hilarious, and spent her nights teasing Wesley about ghosts, when she wasn't teaching Tauriel the common tongue, or how to curse in twelve dialects.

Hunter chalked it up to cabin fever in mid-spring.

"Are we missing anything?" Hunter asked as he secured the tarp, pulling the ropes taut and tying them off. They spent the last week gathering supplies to take, and extra supplies to leave behind, in case they returned. Or the farmhouse someday had new guests. It was bad enough to find an abandoned shelter without non-perishable food and a broken generator. It was worse not to leave the place in better condition than it was found.

The cloudless reddish-orange sky faded into blue-grey and black on the horizon. The air filled with the sound of crickets chirping, and the front door slamming shut. 

"Yeah - your sense of humor!" Wesley announced from his left, laughing and dodging the swipe Hunter took at him. He grinned, raising an eyebrow when Tauriel approached. "I'm still going with Reika so she doesn't get scalped." he told Hunter, walking away to join Reika on her motorcycle, before Hunter could convince him to change his mind. 

Tauriel's impractically long and gorgeous auburn hair was pin-up model worthy. Reika had braided and twisted it into a sensible waist-length pony-tail. The ends of Tauriel's hair wouldn't touch the floor in the cab. Hunter admired the vampire's work, giving Tauriel a quick smile in appreciation. Things were strained between them, which was to be expected. 

"Ready? Menathab." she questioned, tacking Sindarin on the end. It was the fastest way to learn what they were saying to each other. Hunter thought her mother tongue sounded pretty northern, and the commanding tone often made him wonder where she trained in the past. Like Reika, Tauriel outranked him based on her body language alone, from what he noticed.

Hunter nodded. "Yeah. Let's go." he agreed, subtly guiding her to the alternate phrase. 

She opened the passenger door and slid into the seat, waiting for him to get in the driver's seat before she closed it. Key in the ignition, Hunter stopped to hand her earplugs and noise-cancelling headphones he kept in the glove compartment. The engines were a source of over-stimulation that Tauriel wasn't accustomed to yet. Keeping breakdowns to a minimum was his top priority.  

Tauriel smiled tentatively, no longer surprised by his outbursts of accommodation and generosity. She had lived with him for only a few weeks, and he did the same for her as he did the others. Perhaps a little less, but he wasn't ignoring her entirely, now. 

Hunter started the truck, then followed Reika and Wesley onto the main road, and out of Eastern Ødegård.   


 

⚔ ⚔ ⚔  


 

Empty fields and rolling hills blurred past for three hundred miles, dotted by the occasional tree and faded signpost. Reika ignored the speed limit as usual, emboldened by the absence of other motorists. Hunter didn't complain about the pace she set for them to reach the border before dawn. The western half of the country was separated from the east by a mountain range, and with the treacherous terrain came spring blizzards. He would rather not get trapped by the weather, and delay his return to headquarters.

There wasn't much he could say, regarding his assignment, without going back to the compound with a team of specialists. He submitted his report via payphone in a small town near the diner, claiming inter-house politics were to blame for the deaths. They didn't have to worry about Lina and Isaac anymore. He neglected to mention the survivors, unsure of where they had gone in the aftermath, or who would be the new head of Lina's house. None of it mattered to him, when he was further removed from Lina's bloodline as a human descendant. 

Beside him, Tauriel shifted, draping the headphones around her neck and removing the earplugs. She proceeded to fiddle with the radio, frowning as white noise hissed from the speakers. It faded gradually, the closer they got to civilization. A [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LRpQtotn41c) Hunter recognized from his favorite opera drifted through, clear and beautiful as the first time he heard the it.

Tauriel leaned back and listened to the instrumental notes echoing inside the cab. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as classical music filled the silence. Her content, unguarded expression - instead of quiet despair - gave him pause. He was supposed to be watching the road, not looking at her.  
  
Hunter focused on driving through the night, stopping every so often to rest and refuel. The lack of conversation didn't bother him, as they barely spoke to one another, unless it was necessary. She was comfortable with not talking just to talk, like Wesley did. He knew she wouldn't feel hurt by his inattentiveness if he kept to himself for several hours. The radio entertained her more than he could with idle chatter and questions. 

She fell asleep eventually, gazing blankly at their surroundings. It creeped him out in the beginning, before Tauriel informed him later on, she hadn't just had an aneurysm or dissociated, and there was no need to consider rushing her to the hospital. Hunter ensured he recognized her death-like sleep by watching her constantly, from then on. There were little differences that most people wouldn't pick up on, but most people weren't raised by the living dead.

After a moment, Hunter coaxed Tauriel into leaning on him instead of the window, slipping the headphones off her neck so she wouldn't wake up sore. She was remarkably pliant, and didn't stir when he used his folded up jacket as a makeshift pillow between her head and his shoulder. Hunter turned down the volume on the radio, letting Tauriel sleep until they arrived at a motel for the day.

 

⚔ ⚔ ⚔

 

 Stale, cold air blasted through the old air conditioning unit. Hunter reached to yank the quilted comforter over his head as a chill ran down his spine. He ignored murmuring voices from the room next door, and Wesley's instructions to Tauriel on how to properly dismantle and clean their guns. Reika stretched out behind him, and pressed herself close, seeking his body heat like all vampires were wont to do. Her normal temperature was lower than a human, but not uncomfortably so.

They hadn't been like this since before...

Regret flickered in the back of his mind, swiftly followed by nausea. Hunter lurched to his feet, and stumbled into the attached bathroom to vomit, barely hearing Wesley ask what was wrong. He threw up partially-digested food, flushing the toilet when he was done. Hunter wished his aunt were there to counsel him, as she had been whenever he made a mistake. He was only human, after all, Lina would have reminded him with a gentle smile.

Only human for five centuries, bound to her blood as Reika once was - until she wasn't, anymore. 

Wesley appeared in the doorway, a concerned frown on his face. "Hey, are you alright? You need anything?" he asked quietly, like Hunter was a frightened animal and needed to be handled with care. Or maybe he looked as awful as he felt. Hunter didn't deserve Wesley's pity, or his help, but he appreciated it all the same. 

Hunter swallowed, staring at the cracked tile floor. "No - and no, thank you, I... I just need a few minutes. Still lightheaded." he told Wesley, and it wasn't exactly a lie. It wasn't exactly the truth, either, not that he would discuss any of it with the other man, or Tauriel for that matter. He couldn't disrupt the fragile alliance they built out of necessity, until he was in a better place emotionally and mentally, if he even trusted them by then.

"Sure." Wesley nodded and sat at the table with Tauriel, resuming his task.

Minutes passed before Hunter picked himself up off the floor to take a quick shower. He needed to relax before he went back to sleep again, and unconsciously wreaked havoc on the others' superior senses. As he redressed, Hunter hoped that Wesley just thought his sickness was a bout of food poisoning. Tauriel would know better, but he didn't think she would say anything... Even if she was looking at him, strangely thoughtful, as he climbed into the bed opposite Reika.

"You feeling better?" Wesley murmured.

"Yeah." Hunter lied, feeling Tauriel's eyes burning a hole in the back of his head. "I'm fine."


End file.
